


Colors

by invisiblenonexistence



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Casual Sex, Hook-Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisiblenonexistence/pseuds/invisiblenonexistence
Summary: A series of short fics, connected by theme (colors).





	1. Красный

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little writing exercise I gave myself, so I will add to it as I complete more. Each chapter should stand alone.
> 
> You can find me at http://invisiblenonexistence.tumblr.com
> 
> ***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno/Ovi - Russia, anger, passion, blood

Красный

 

 

They meet when they’re young, and sometimes he wonders if that is the gravity that holds them together, the years of shared experiences keeping them like celestial bodies in an orbit, never coming together, but never able to leave either.

 

There’s something always just a touch out of sync between them, never quite slotting smoothly into place. Their rough edges catch and rub together, leaving marks that never quite heal, no matter how much time passes.

 

They roughhouse, they wrestle. His grip is a little too tight for comfort. Their kisses are desperate, hard, biting, shoved against walls, rough brick against their backs. It always tastes like tears, or blood, and sometimes both.

 

He wonders if that’s just what it’s like between men, angry and careless, any pleasure from the act secondary to the pain they can cause.

 

He mentions it once, in a darkened club after a few too many drinks. The flashing red lights distort Sanya’s face as it twists in anger. “Why would you talk about that? Why can’t you let things go?”

 

He can feel the heat in his face, the flames of frustration that Sanya can always draw from him. “I don’t let things go? You’re the one who always looks for me when you lose!”

 

Sanya hits him then, and he tastes the copper tang from his split lip. He grabs for Sanya, but Sanya is gone.

 

The Red Machine grinds them together again, for honor and country. They lose under a crimson sea of Canadian flags.

 

Ovi finds him after their defeat, his hands hard and hungry, pushing him against the door of his room, holding him there. His kiss tastes the same, salt and copper, and Zhenya wonders if they could ever kiss without anger and loss between them.

 

He knows what Ovi wants, the struggle, the fight, but he’s too exhausted to give it to him. Instead, he gives in, lets Ovi hold him down. It startles Ovi enough to make him pause.

 

Zhenya pulls his arms free, reaches up to cup Ovi’s face in his hands. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he closes them instead of looking at Zhenya. He doesn’t pull away, though, and lets Zhenya card his fingers through his hair, petting instead of tugging.

 

He guides Ovi to the bed, too small to fit both of them comfortably, but it’s all Zhenya can offer. He doesn’t have words, any more than Ovi seems to.

They curl into each other, still an awkward fit no matter how they shift, but the quiet sound of their shared breaths seems to be enough to let them sleep.

 

In the morning, Ovi is gone, and Zhena’s bags are packed. His red Russian tracksuit is tucked away, along with another set of shared memories that they’d rather forget.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno/Paul Martin - Autumn, pumpkins, spice, fireplaces  
> Curling up by a fire, warmth, football

Оранжевый

***

It’s difficult after Seryozha leaves. He feels strangely untethered, even though he’s been here for a few years, now. The feeling of safety, of family that Seryozha allowed is gone. He’s alone in the house he’d purchased for himself, that seems too big now that he’s living there - all empty, echoing spaces.

Oh the ice, things are different as well. Instead of Seryozha prowling the blue line, there’s Paulie, quiet and intense, but unfamiliar behind him. 

He invites the team over to watch football when they aren’t playing, and always seems to have an endless supply of beer and snacks. His house becomes a warm and cozy place to spend autumn afternoons. His couch and chairs always have a variety of quilts and handknit blankets sent by various elderly female relatives, and sometimes Geno doesn’t even watch the game - just dozes lightly under a bright quilt that always smells freshly laundered. 

As the weather grows colder, Paulie lights a fire in the fireplace that he actually uses. Geno’s house has fireplaces, but he’s pretty sure that a family of squirrels is living in the chimney, so he’s hesitant to ever use them. Paulie either has his chimney properly maintained, or has no worries about setting squirrels on fire, because he always has a supply of wood and kindling prepared. 

Geno starts to drop by even when there is no football to watch. Paulie never seems to mind, just ushering him to the couch, and offering him food and drinks, letting him curl up and watch television. Paulie never asks why he’s there, or expects him to talk much, which Geno likes. It’s relaxing to just have Paulie’s quiet company, warm and solid nearby. 

He stops by one afternoon when the leaves have fallen, covering the lawns of Paulie’s neighborhood in a blanket of orange. Paulie is wrapped in a grey sweater, and the house smells like cinnamon when Geno steps inside.

“I was just warming up some cider. Do you want some?”

Paulie hands him a steaming mug of amber apple cider, with a cinnamon stick poking out of it. Geno takes a moment just to inhale the fragrant apples and spice, and warm his hands around the mug. 

**

He runs his fingers through Paulie’s thick, almost ginger hair, tugging gently as they kiss. He’s trying to urge Paulie into moving harder, faster, but Paulie keeps kissing him syrup-slow and sweet, like they have all the time in the world. After awhile, Geno feels like they might. 

He follows the languid pace that Paulie sets, takes his time to taste and touch. He savors the taste, the hints of cider that still linger between them. 

Paulie guides him down on to the couch carefully, moving over him, and cocooning him in the combined heat of their bodies. Their hips roll together, hardness muted by the worn denim between them. 

Geno pulls away from their kisses to gasp. Paulie mouths up his neck, along his jaw, and whispers in his ear. “Is this what you want,” Paulie asks, with a slow grind of his hips. 

Geno’s breath feels caught in his chest, so he just nods. Whatever this is, he knows he wants it. 

Paulie’s hands are quick and clever undressing him, but Geno feels clumsy trying to kiss and pull Paulie’s sweater off. He manages somehow, and soon they’re naked, pale with the last hints of summer tans faded. 

He can’t stop touching Paulie, feeling the thick muscle and soft skin of his back, skimming his hands from hips to shoulders as they kiss. Paulie rewards him by moving against him, letting their cocks rub together deliciously, a slow, sensual tease. 

Paulie pants a little into his neck, hot little puffs of air that tickle, and then pulls away. 

Geno opens his eyes, and watches as Paulie stands up. In the dimness of the evening, light from the fireplace creates flickering patterns of orange and gold and his skin. 

Geno sits up quickly, and pulls Paulie back in by the hips. He looks up at Paulie, then lowers his head, kissing Paulie’s stomach softly, absently trailing downward. Paulie’s erection bumps his chin, and he turns his face to nuzzle it, letting it graze across his cheek to his lips. He licks his lips, a little nervous, and Paulie makes a small gasping sound.

Geno moves in with a bit more confidence, slowly sucking the head of Paulie’s cock in, past his lips, over his tongue. He can’t go very deeply, but from the twitching clutch of Paulie’s fingers in his hair, he doesn’t think Paulie minds. He sets a slow pace for himself, careful, but savoring the feeling, the fullness of his mouth as he sucks Paulie deeper, the easing as he pulls back. 

He likes that Paulie is letting him do this, isn’t trying to bully him into going faster or taking more, and he lets himself get lost in the movement and rhythm of Paulie sliding in and out, Paulie’s little gasps and moans, Paulie’s thigh quivering under one hand, and Paulie’s cock in the other. 

His jaw is aching a little when Paulie tries to pull away, but Geno won’t let him, moving both his hands the Paulie’s hips to hold him in place. He finally speeds up, sucking a little harder, moving his mouth a little faster, and he feels it when Paulie comes, He swallows quickly, like taking a shot that he doesn’t really want to taste, and Paulie’s knees buckle. Geno is pretty sure that his hands are the only thing keeping Paulie upright, and he finally pulls back.

He looks up at Paulie, and sees him looking down at him, a little surprised, a little wondering. Paulie reaches out and touches Geno’s lips, where they’re a little puffy, a little sore. 

He’s trying to think of something to say, maybe to ask for a glass of water to chase the bitter aftertaste from his mouth, but before he can form words, Paulie is in his lap, kissing him deeply, thoroughly, like he’s trying to find every trace of himself in Geno’s mouth.

Geno is hard enough that he aches, and later he might be embarrassed at the sound he makes when Paulie wraps a hand around him. His grip his strong and hot, his stroke steady, and it doesn’t take long. Geno’s back arches with his orgasm, and he keeps thrusting weakly into Paulie’s hand drawing the moment out just a little longer, before dropping his head back to catch his breath. 

He closes his eyes for just a moment, and feels it when Paulie moves away. Geno still isn’t ready to do anything but breathe, so it startles him a little when Paulie comes back. Paulie pushes Geno, and shifts them around until Geno’s head is resting on Paulie’s chest, and their legs are twined together. Paulie pulls one of the quilts over them, and kisses the top of Geno’s head.

He’s warm, and surprisingly comfortable curled up with Paulie on the couch. It’s easy to let Paulie’s deep, even breaths lull him to sleep.


End file.
